


These Foolish Things

by steelneena



Series: Love Comes Soft: Married at First Sight, A Swanfire AU [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Some mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 for the prompt from tumblr for Swanfire Sunday: An idea from one of my other fav shows: SwanFire married at first sight! Prompt, they sign up to let experts pick out their spouse, and meet on their wedding day</p><p>The newly married Emma Cassidy has a lot on her plate; Pictures, a Reception, the dance and her very wedding night to endure, and all while married to a man that she's only just met. Neal Cassidy is a bit more concerned about the presence of his Mother and her Husband at the reception, and a couple of things that he's hiding, which may or may not come out while on his honeymoon. Yes somehow, through everything imaginable, are they really starting to like each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Foolish Things

**Author's Note:**

> Aurora, Philip and Mulan are mentioned briefly, Aurora under the name Rose and Mulan under the name Jaime, for her actress. They are a polyamourous trio in this fic. If that bother’s you, oh well, it’s like two lines of text. It’s basically in Canon with the show, so I just went with it. 
> 
> Also note: Because there is no timeline weirdness and people ages are relative to their dates of birth, let it be known that (while you should all understand that this is obviously Swanfire and Swanfire endgame for the whole plot) Killian, while he appears (briefly in this chapter, not so briefly in the future) will not be playing into any love triangles involving Emma. In this story, Neal is understandably pissed at his Mom and thus Killian as well, so he’s a little hostile towards him, but that doesn’t make this a fic which bashes Hook in any way. I’m rather against putting overt personal biases in fic, and I refuse to treat him terribly, though I will try to be as true to character as I’m aware. 
> 
> Lastly, this is once again a reminder that I haven’t seen a damn minute of the show past Quiet Minds, excepting the Neal flashback and a clip of his funeral, not that any other knowledge it really needed to write this. 
> 
> I’ve only done a brief once over, so forgive any glaring mistakes. It is Easter after all, but I’m still posting for swanfire sunday.

**Receiving Line, Photographs and the Reception:**

_Emma Cassidy, nee Blanchard-Nolan_

She was married. Married. They had walked out that door forever changed, forever linked. He was handsome, there was no question, with a - she wanted to gag again - charming grin and smiling eyes. His hand had been gentle on her waist, tentative. Emma stood next to him, though not terribly close, as their friends and family walked out.

"Congratulations, Bae," An older man hugged Neal tightly, and Emma's forehead creased with a slight frown.

"Thanks, Pop," Her husband, the perfect stranger, turned to her. "Emma, this is my father, Richard Gold. Don't let him confuse you with nicknames," He clarified. "And this is my step-mom, Belle," He gestured to a woman who had to have been about their own age.

"Hello Emma, it's so wonderful to meet you! Welcome to the family!" She seemed nice, giving Emma a light hug, and it didn't feel awkward at all. Her new father-in-law did not move to hug her, though he smiled forcibly.

"I see that my son has indeed been fortunate. It is a pleasure to meet you, Emma," She lifted an eyebrow, mildly bemused by his formality. "I know that I am biased, but I believe that, e-hem, Neal will be the very best of husbands. If he is not, I'll have to have a word with him,"

"Enough Pop, I'll see you later. We have other guests to greet," Neal rushed them along, and it wasn't until her own parents had come forward that she realized she'd not said a single word to Mr. and Mrs. Gold.

"Oh Emma, that was so lovely!" Her mother was embracing her tightly. "Welcome officially to the family, Neal!"

"Thank you, Mary Margret. It's a pleasure," Emma was again without words. When did he learn her mother's name? "David," Neal inclined his head respectfully.

"Now don't you forget what I told you,"

"I won't, sir,"

Her father turned to her, and pulled her close, kissing her on the forehead.

"He's a good man, Emma. I love you,"

"Love you too, Daddy," She whispered.

Then the Nolan's moved on, leaving Emma and Neal to parade each other through the various guests. By the end of the line, she was clutching her bouquet tightly in one hand, and had the other pressed against the corseting of her dress.

"Emma, Emma did you hear me?" She was shaken from her fugue by the sound of her name.

"Sorry, I-"

"It's fine. The photographer is here now. They want us to head out for pictures,"

"Oh. Okay," The photographer lead them through the hotel, and started talking, so Emma made an effort to pay attention.

"So, I'm sorry if my Dad and Belle were a bit overwhelming. I should have rescued you sooner. It's kind of a long story. I'm sorry I come with weird family baggage," At his words, Emma found herself nodding.

"No, it's alright. I understand. We have some weird stuff in our family too. One of my bridesmaids, Regina, she's actually my mom's step mom, if you can believe it," She couldn't help but grin at the look on his face in response to her words.

"Well, shit. I guess you win in the lottery of strange, but I still guarantee you that I come with baggage, but then, don't we all?"

"I'm certainly not without it, so I guess we can't scare each other off that way. I'm sorry, actually, I think I might have been kind of rude to your family. I think I forgot to say anything to them," Emma concluded meekly. Neal laughed, and she found herself mesmerized by the carefree sound.

"My Dad's an intimidating asshole, and Belle is the kind of nice that makes you believe in Santa Claus again, so it's forgivable, hands down. Your parents are...well-"

"Ridiculously sappy?" She asked him, and he nodded. "I know. She calls him Charming, like it's a nickname,"

"Oh don't get me started. Belle calls my dad the most insane nickname and I don't think I can even explain it to you right now without wanting to go hide in a hole for the rest of my life from sheer embarrassment. You'll probably hear her say it at the reception anyways,"

They giggled together, and Emma found herself feeling more comfortable, like she might a ways into a first date. But it wasn't a first date she remembered, the bubbling feeling in her stomach returning. They'd gotten into their limo, and Emma found her mind wandering, wondering where they would be going for photos. Quickly, she changed the topic of their conversation.

"So what do you do?"

"Oh, um, I'm an accountant?" He asking, lilting upwards at the end.

"Was that a question?"

"Well, I'm employed full time by a bank in Manhattan, but I actually have a teaching license and my Masters, so sometimes I go out to the Universities and substitute teach higher level math classes.  But I dabble in other things too. I've got a BA in Literature, and I worked in a library for a while. I wouldn't mind doing that again, honestly. What about you?"

"I'm actually a Bail Bondswoman. It's a pretty exciting job. I like the chase, really. And the satisfaction of putting away the bad guy. One of my favourite take downs used to be setting up dating accounts and getting them to go out with me, to draw them out, you know? I guess that play is out of the book now, huh?"

The skin around his eyes crinkled with delight at her question. They were beautiful, those wrinkles, she thought, belaying his jovial nature.

"Well I can't say that it doesn't flatter me immensely that you're even offering to cut it from your playbook, but far be it from me to make your job more difficult for you,"

"Smooth talker. I've been warned about you," Emma wagged her finger at him teasingly. The car stopped, and so did, for the time being, their conversation. The photographer had brought them to a park, and Emma knew what was coming next. He would pose them, in uncomfortably intimate poses and they would be expected to look natural and loving and-

But she liked him enough, for having only known him the better part of an hour. As they walked over to the first location, he leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"Whatever you're comfortable with,"

Emma thought about it a moment, but not long enough to betray herself.  What the hell - they'd already kissed once, so maybe she should just go for it.

The first pose had them leaning out from behind a tree, looking at one another with secret smiles, and the second had him leaning against the tree, with her back against him, an arm about her shoulder.

"Now turn you head and kiss him," The photographer called.

"I don't know if-" Neal started, but she turned her head, stretched upwards a bit, and, much to his surprise, kissed him gently, just long enough for the photographer to snap a couple of photos. It went much the same everywhere they went. Though they were never made to kiss on the lips again, he had kissed her once on the cheek, and vice versa.

The car ride back was more subdued. They chatted less, and Emma was sure that they had the exact same reasons. One, the whole entire process was just tiring. They were married and that was a daunting thought on it's own, but besides that, they had to get to know one another, had to go to the reception and meet and talk with one another's families and friends and it was beyond anything Emma had ever thought she'd need to comprehend.

They walked in silence to where their reception was about to occur, waiting to be announced.

"Hey, um, do you dance at all? Like, the waltz or anything?" Neal rubbed the side of his nose awkwardly.

In the face of her confusion, it took Emma a moment to answer. "Um, not really. I can't believe I'm even in a dress at all, to tell you the truth,"

"Well, waltzing isn't hard, if you're interested in trying. My dad taught me, when I was younger, and I always thought that it might be cool to show off a bit, you know, to other people,"

"Alright, I guess, as long as I don't make a fool of myself,"

"Nah, you'll be fine. I saw you walk up that aisle. You were graceful as a swan,"

Stunned by his candidness, Emma was about to reply, when she heard the announcer inside of the reception hall, and the doors opened.

"Presenting, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Neal and Emma Cassidy!" She heard the cheering. Neal turned to look at her, holding out his hand.

"You ready to do this?"

"I'll never be ready," She grabbed his hand, and together they stepped through into the lights and the crowd and the music.

Dinner was served first. It didn't much matter what was being served, to either Emma or Neal. They sat at the head table with their groomsman and bridesmaids, respectively, eating, having light conversation, and generally trying to act, at least on Emma's part, as if they hadn't just bound themselves in legal matrimony. Inside, her mind was still racing, thinking about him. That was a good thing, right? That her heart and mind raced at the sight of him. Or was it just the adrenaline rushing through her system. He could dance, he held multiple degrees, and wanted to be a librarian. All in all Neal Cassidy seemed pretty vanilla, unlike most of her past relationships. Walsh was supposed to have been vanilla, and had turned out to be anything but.  _Stop thinking about him. It doesn't matter now, and you never really loved him. But you don't love Neal Cassidy either, and he doesn't love you. Stop Stop stop stop-_

"Hey, do you know why they're clinking their glasses?" Neal brought her out of her thoughts, looking genuinely confused.

"Have you never attended a wedding before?" Sheepishly, he shook his head no. Emma's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah. I actually am,"

She huffed. "They want us to kiss,"

"Oh," He didn't make any move towards her, just sitting there, but the clinking continued, so Emma leaned over, turned his face gently towards her own, closed her eyes, and kissed him gently. There was a great cheer, and the clinking stopped. Emma opened her eyes to the close proximity of his face, clearly in a paralytic stupor.

"Close your mouth, Cassidy," She bit back a snigger, but inside, she had butterflies again. Being brave was scary, but at least she'd done it anyway. He'd been the seemingly cool player up until then, and it was her turn to display some courage. "So were you serious earlier, about waltzing with me? Because if you're in it to impress, you'll certainly get in my mom's good book. And if you're in with my mom..." She trailed off, lifting a fine brow for emphasis.

"Yeah. Yeah...oh, the waltz? Of course, I meant that!" Her shocked groom stuttered, turning red. He quickly reached for his glass of wine. It was a red - Merlot, he'd asked for - Emma noted. Her husband liked red wine. "And I meant what I said about you're Swan-like nature. You're more graceful than I am, that's not a big leap. So I'm sure that you'll be able to out do me, even if I'm the one with the prior experience,"

"We'll see, but don't do that,"

"What?"

"Demean yourself. Seriously. You can Waltz. That's pretty neat. You've got how many degrees? What, four?"

"No but-"

"That's not the point. Putting yourself down to make me feel better? Not cool. You're the one who's going to make us look good out there, in like, five minutes," Emma's speech was as much for her own benefit as it was his. How could she compete with his intellect when she hadn't even gone to college? She had her own insecurities, but if they were going to make this work - and that was the whole point of the experiment, wasn't it? to see if people who were really, really looking for commitment could find and commit to another in the same boat - then they needed to have as much faith in themselves as they could, instead of looking to others to fill the wholes in their lives, to fix the problems. They need to believe in themselves and in their ability to become a team, to work together, and depend on one another, but not to expect the other person to solve problems for them. That was what she had learned from her parents. That was a healthy relationship.

"And now, the couple of the evening will have their first dance!"

They walked out onto the dance floor. Neal leaned to her ear.

"I asked him to play a song we could waltz to, but I don't know what it'll be, since you mentioned that you didn't know either,"

Music began to play, and Emma let him position her appropriately so that they could begin to dance. She didn't know the song, but it didn't take long before she was following his steps easily, without having to think to hard. They made small circles on the dance floor, and, for all that the waltz was supposed to be an iconic, romantic dance, it was fairly impersonal while giving off (she assumed) an impressive appearance. They weren't pressed flush with one another, his hand only gently resting about her waist, the other holding one of hers, while she rested her free hand on his shoulder. Four points of contact, in seemingly endless circles. Yes, it was impersonal, and it was safe, and it was impressive. The song ended, the circles within circles stopped and he released her waist, but remained holding her hand, inclining his head towards her, and Emma responded in like. Everyone clapped, clinking their glasses again, and they indulged the crowd with another, brief and chaste kiss.

" Do you want to go around, visit some tables?" Neal asked, as the music turned to some pop beat, and a few other people got up to dance.

"Why not?" Emma started off, but she stopped when she noticed that he hadn't moved, seemingly rooted to the spot. "What's up?" Neal shook his head.

"Nothing. It's nothing," She followed his gaze, and spotted a brunette couple, the woman as tall and dark as her male companion.

"Who're they?"

"My mom and her asshole husband. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I did invite them, after all. Would've been rude not to. But I didn't really expect...I didn't even explain in the invite. I just wrote a letter and said, 'Hey, you remember me, your son? Well I'm getting married,'. That's all. Let's just avoid Milah and the Handless Wonder while we can,"

"Handless Wonder?" She purposefully avoided his bitter tone.

"Work accident. He liked to wear a hook when I was little. Now he has a prosthetic. Easier to get a job that way, I suppose,"

Together they wandered off to a table full of her friends. Astrid and Leroy sat there with Archie Hopper and Ruby's Grandmother, as well as Jefferson and his daughter, Grace. Next was a table of his friends - the only table of his friends, she noted somewhat shamefully. Only two of the many tables had his relations seated at them. The one where his parents sat with hers, and the one with his friends. There was even an extra seat, so she counted his best man (Robin?) amongst them. She had five tables, all on her own. Neal introduced her to the few people he'd invited, Ivy and the Darling siblings. They visited all of her tables at least once, and she introduced him without fail at every table, while admonishing their attempts to tell embarrassing stories about her. Neal listened politely the whole while, of course, but it was obvious that he was distracted by the couple who had made themselves quite comfortable at the open bar.

They'd made the rounds all the way back to the head table when he finally spoke to her.

"You don't have to meet them,"

"It's up to you. Whatever you're comfortable with,"

"I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable with them. Let's just have a drink and whatever," He took a gulp from his glass of red, nearly finishing it off, and then strode away to talk with Robin. Emma let out a breath. It was obvious that he was distressed, and she hoped that it wouldn't affect their barely burgeoning relationship. Regina beckoned her over, so she gripped her own glass of Chardonnay and went to join her friend.

"What's up with the hubby?" The raven haired beauty asked outright.

"You see the couple by the bar?"

"Yeah, Tall, dark and drunken?"

"That's his mom and step-dad. What I've heard is bad things, and I haven't heard much. Just the brief, 'My mom left us when I was two for an Irish biker' spiel,"

"Sounds ugly. What about his best man? Did you get that story? He's pretty damn good looking, but he's got a kid, and I don't want to make a move on a Mr. Married,"

"I didn't ask, but I didn't see a ring either. Can't hurt to find out?"

Regina laughed easily. "No, it can't. You know, I still can't believe that you signed up for this. It's so unlike you to throw yourself into a situation that you can't control any facet of. This is the sort of thing I thought you would scoff at. I wouldn't have thought you'd touch this project with a ten foot pole. Whatever happened to Emma-I'm fine on my own- Blanchard-Nolan?"

"One too many bad decisions, Regina. Can we drop this subject now?"

"Fine, whatever, princess," Regina rolled her eyes and walked away, glass in hand, towards Neal's best man. Neal himself, Emma noted, was no where in sight. Choosing to ignore the fact that her husband had disappeared, she made her way over to the table where Ruby was making the moves on Archie Hopper, much to Leroy and Astrid's amusement.

She'd only been there a few moments, already caught up in their laughter and sport, when a finger tapped her shoulder.

"Excuse me, Emma," The blonde whirled around, confronted with Belle Gold. "I was wondering if you'd seen Neal? We were going to leave now,"

"Leave?" Emma couldn't understand why, considering how close they seemed with her new husband. Her own parents were intending to spend the rest of the evening, at least until the other guests left.

"Rumple-err, Richard thought it best, considering that Milah and Killian showed up. He didn't want any unpleasantness on your and his son's special day,"

"Oh. No, but before he disappeared to wherever, he was talking with, um, Robin?"

Belle put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for understanding. We'll be seeing you around, I hope? Rum and I thought it might be nice to have you and Neal for dinner, after you get back from the honeymoon?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Emma nodded at her mother-in-law only absently. She'd started to browse the crowd for Neal. Belle said goodbye, and walked away, but the Bride barely noticed. She exited the ballroom, and turned the corner, looking for the bathrooms. When she found the men's, she pressed her ear to the door. It was nearly silent but- She pushed open the door. "Neal?"

He sat on the floor across from the door, back up against the tile and his head in his hands.

"Hey, your Dad and Belle are going to be leaving," She said, feeling awkward. It was obvious that he'd been...crying.

"Yeah?" he said, running a hand over his face, and wiping his eyes in the process. Though dry, they were still red.

"They're looking for you," It was all empty conversation at that point, even as he made to pick himself up off the floor. "Look, if you don't want to-"

"No, it's fine. It's fine. I'm fine," He turned to the mirror, supporting all his weight on his hands, where he gripped the porcelain of the sink with all his might. "It's just that, why'd she even show up if she was just going to sit at the bar?"

Awkwardly, uncomfortably, Emma came to stand next to Neal, not daring to touch him.

"Sorry. I-This is- not the way I wanted this night to go,"

"It's not your fault, Neal,"

"I did invite them, though,"

"It was big of you. You're the bigger person. Don't let her have power over you,"

"You speak from experience," He noted, glancing at her for the first time.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do,"

There was a long silence, but it didn't feel forced. Neal released his grip to run the water, splashing it over his face before steeling himself to return to the reception.

"Thanks, Emma,"

"No problem,"

"Here I go," Neal's smiled falsely, and exited the bathroom, where Emma was left to stand alone. She waited a moment before leaving herself, in order to rejoin the party. It was turning out to be quite the night.

**Wedding Night:**

The rest of the reception had gone over fairly well. Neal had said goodbye to his father and Belle, and shortly thereafter Milah and Killian had left too, much to Neal's obvious relief. They danced, not necessarily together, but in a big group on the dance floor. Neal mingled with her friends, and his mingled with hers and she mingled amongst them with dancing and lighthearted, shallow conversation. Slowly, people filtered away, and the floor emptied until only Emma's parents, Regina and Robin, holding a sleeping Roland, were left.

"So, I dunno about you, but I'm ready to head out," Neal sidled up alongside her, holding out a glass of water. She took it, and he took a sip from his own glass. "You've got a lovely family, Emma. And some pretty great friends,"

"You do too. Hey, I'm supposed to ask. Is Robin single? Regina thinks he's a real looker, and she's got a thing for men with kids, so..."

"Yeah, his wife died several years back. He hasn't really dated since then, but they sure seem to be getting along well,"

"Yeah, it sure looks that way," She drank from the glass he'd given her. "Well, I guess I'm ready too, so,"

"Let's go say our goodbyes?"

"Yup,"

* * *

As the newly formed couple trudged along the hotel's hallways to their Honeymoon Suite, Emma found herself increasingly annoyed by the presence of the cameraman. They had been given their own camcorder to record during their honeymoon (where that was, she was still unawares, though she'd been told that it was going to be warm, in order that she could pack accordingly) and she found that she was okay with that idea. Lots of couples recorded themselves on honeymoon. But, at least for the night, she was going to be adamant that the crewman left them alone at the door to their hotel room. Enough was enough, and if she was going to be married to his man, she wanted to be able to be genuine with him. That, Emma knew well, was not going to be a possibility for her when there was a camera around.

"I get the feeling that you're not the sort who wants to be carried over the threshold," The remark was joking - far, far from scathing, though on anyone else it might have come off that way. Instead, Emma found herself inclined to chuckle at Neal's blunt statement.

"No, I'm not. And," she turned towards the camera, with emphasis. "I think the doorway is far enough for you, thanks," Without delay, she nudged Neal though into the room, followed him, and brusquely shut the door. "I'm sorry, I just can't stand the camera," With baited breath, she waited for the eternal question  _then why the hell did you agree to be on a reality tv show?_  but it never came.

"I hate being filmed. I hate it. So, thanks for that. Seriously, how can people stand to be in front of cameras 24/7, their every move being evaluated by some idiot strangers! I just...I can't stand it. So, um, thanks," His finish came off exceedingly lame, and almost unemotional in light of his tirade. Emma didn't quite gape, but she had to remember to close her mouth.

"No problem," Before continuing into the room, she hiked her skirts, and toed off her four inch heels. "First things first, I am getting out of this goddamned dress,"

"Do I sense a hint of venom?"

"My mom picked it out. I mean, I wouldn't have gone with it if I didn't love it too, but...It's a dress, and like I mentioned earlier, I am not really a...dress girl. Tight, shorter, sure, if I have to, but big and poofy? Not unless she shoves me into it,"

"You looked like a princess, though,"

"Great, now you sound like my dad," Neal didn't respond, but rather, a quiet silence grew between them. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound bitter or anything. I just...I'm not a girly girl. But thank you, really. It was a compliment, and I-"

"Don't mention it," Once more, ease had flooded back into their interactions.  _Goddamn it, Emma, be more sensitive!_  She berated herself.

Neal headed into the bathroom, closing the door in an unspoken agreement that he'd change there, and she would change in the room. It took her plenty of time to undo the corseted back on her own, and once, briefly, Emma considered knocking on the door and begging for his help, but she soldiered on anyways, determined. Eventually, the dress pooled on the floor, and (blushing furiously) her negligee followed. Within minutes she'd thrown on sweats and a tank, hiding the lacy underthings in her luggage, and adjusting the dress on it's hanger.

"Hey, are you done in there?" She asked with a quick knock, though she was certain that Neal had been waiting quite some time. The door opened in response. He'd attired himself similarly and gestured to the room.

"It's all yours, Emma," She sidled in, and he out, wasting no time in flopping down on the bed. Emma shivered. He'd said her name several times, though she couldn't recall if she'd said his more than thrice outside of the ceremony itself. Each time, the way his voice caressed the syllables sent a thrill through her that made her more jumpy than anything else. Neal was so calm, sweetly tender in his attentions, however strange they might be to one another. A doting husband. Briefly, as she brushed her teeth, she remembered the card that he had sent her before the ceremony. Yes, it had belayed much of his character as she had so far been able to ascertain. But the next week would be all the more telling; emotions of all sorts had run high throughout the day and into the evening, and, as she grew more comfortable with him, Emma was sure Neal would do the same in return.

Finally, she scrubbed and dried her face, the cathartic ritual calming her down enough to reenter the bedroom. If she had been honest with herself, Emma had expected that he'd have already fallen asleep, but instead she found him propped up with a pillow above the covers, the nightstand lit, and a book in his hand.

"So," She opened, unable to come up with anything remotely intelligent to say besides. Neal noted his page number -  _doesn't use a bookmark_  she filed away into her growing list of 'quirks my husband has' - set the book on the stand, and looked up at her.

"So,"

"It's um, been  a crazy day," Emma attempted lamely.

"If you want to head to bed, that's fine. I'll just read a while if you don't mind the light - it helps me wind down. Otherwise, I was kind of hoping we might talk a little. Get to know one another a bit more...naturally,"

She shrugged. "I'm up for it if you are,"

He patted the side of the bed that he'd left empty. "Unless you'd rather have this side?"

"No, that's fine," Emma sat down, sliding her legs up onto the soft coverlet. "So, where do you want to start?"

"That's just about the most insane question of all time. I have absolutely no idea. How about this," Neal turned, and stuck out his hand. Emma took it, and they shook. "Hi, I'm Neal Cassidy,"

"Hi, I'm Emma Cassidy. I was Blanchard-Nolan a couple of hours ago, but I just got married,"

"Cool. Was Blanchard your mother's last name?"

And that was all it took to get them started. The camcorder sat forgotten in the corner, and while they would catch hell for it when post-production began, they didn't have room to think about it. Three hours later (it was around 2:30) their conversation had wrapped up, they'd turned out the lights and turned to their respective sides of the bed, facing each other intentionally being simply too intimate a task. Neal's breathing evened within minutes, to Emma's keen hearing, but her own mind wouldn't shut off, despite her exhausted state.

In one evening, she'd learned more about a person than she had on one date in her whole life, and she'd volunteered more information about herself than she had even through the entire course of some past relationships.

Neal's birth name was Baelfire Gold. He was Scottish by birth, though he couldn't remember ever living there, nor did he have an accent. At age fifteen, he'd had a severe falling out with his father (over the man's business practices, though what they were, Neal hadn't volunteered) and he'd run away, finding a home with the Darling family, who had relocated to upstate New York from England just prior to taking him in. He'd lived there for nearly 5 years before moving out of his own volition and working his way through college. He'd had one serious relationship prior to marrying her, and had since made up with his father, and was very fond of his new step-mother, despite the fact that they were approximately the same age. He worked in Manhattan, he lived (in his own words) "like a Beat", vicariously through his literature, side hobbies and work. Sensing his discomfort, Emma hadn't pressed Neal for more information regarding the relationship (he'd been engaged), how it ended, or how he came to reconnect with his father, though she thought it possible that the last two were connected in some manner.

For her own part, she'd detailed her own childhood, growing up in small town Storybrooke with her 'prominent' parents, her aunt/step-grandmother, and her parents' weird friends. She told him of her decision to move to Boston, alone, and take the bailbonds classes instead of going to college, and her eventual move to New York to pursue a wider and more varied clientele. She'd also mentioned having 3 (ish) major relationships, all of which she'd heavily implied having ended badly, though she didn't give any details. He hadn't pushed her on it, and she'd accepted the gesture as compensation on her own part in not pressuring him. From there, they'd turned to asking questions about likes and dislikes, which had given way to yawns and heavy eyelids. He liked pumpkin pie, she liked cinnamon on her hot chocolate. He liked Marlon Brando films, she liked video games. It was a give and take, and Emma found that she enjoyed learning Neal.

Smiling a little, Emma lay still. The moonlight filtered in over their forms. She sat up gradually, and looked over at him. Neal had rolled to his stomach, mouth open slightly, though he wasn't drooling. His breaths came even and light, and he looked immovable. A solid form in his repast. Cautiously not to wake him, though she was confident that that task would be nigh impossible, Emma got up and, fumbling a bit, found the camcorder. She turned it on in the darkened suite, and pointed it at her face.

"Hi," She whispered, feeling silly. "So, Neal's asleep," She turned the camera on him. "It's three now," The moonbeam lit his form nicely, and so she zoomed in a little on his serene face. "I was nervous before. I was going to walk down the aisle, and I was scared shitless. But this is kind of nice," She turned the camera back to herself. "Might not be so bad. I don't think I've ever talked about myself to another person as much as I did tonight. Neal's a sweetie. And he's smart, which is refreshing. Anyway... I think I can finally fall asleep now," Without further remarking on the subject, Emma shut off the camera, replaced it on the chair, and went back to bed, falling asleep before she could even register that her eyes were fluttering closed.

* * *

_Neal Cassidy:_

Neal shot up in bed, panting. Dreams again. To his side, his wife ( _weird)_  lay sleeping peacefully. He glanced at the clock just past her. Five. Laying back down, he took deep even breaths. Getting shot sucked. Majorly. Getting shot by your fiancee was even worse. Of course, Tamara was now out for the count - life in jail, without prospect of bail. It was the least his father could have done for him, and while he'd begged his father not to, Richard had only looked at him, and said "Son, for you, I will give anything," He'd had to testify, of course, and had only been out of the hospital for a week before the date came.

 _"She tried to kill me. I looked into her eyes as she pulled the trigger and I didn't see a shred of remorse,"_. Her partner, Greg, had been killed in a shootout with police when he had tried to escape.  

Neal rubbed the spot at his side where the bullet had pierced him, phantom pains rearing their heads. He steeled his jaw against the hard thoughts, and focused all of his attention on the woman resting beside him. This was something good in his life, for once. Something truly good, and he wasn't going to let Tamara come between him and the future.

Eventually, Neal fell back asleep.

* * *

_Emma Cassidy, nee Blanchard-Nolan:_

When she finally woke up, Emma noticed that the spot beside her was empty, the bathroom door closed. She stood, and began to pull out her clothes for the day, grabbing things that she would need for showering.

"I'm not really an early riser, normally," Neal's voice drifted from behind her. "Good morning,"

"Morning yourself. And I generally am. An early riser, I mean,"

"Bathroom's all yours. Do you want me to call room service for breakfast?"

"Sure - how about pancakes for me, with fresh strawberries, please?" She called over her shoulder as she got ready for the morning.

"No problem. What about juices?"

"Just orange. Oh, and maybe an actual orange would be nice too,"

"I'll take care of it,"

By the time she was out of the shower, dressed and hair dried, her breakfast had arrived and was waiting for her, still warm, though not piping hot. She crawled onto the bed, sitting back on her heels, and they clinked glasses cheesily.

"To a beautiful morning, and-" He held up a envelop, addressed  _to Neal and Emma_ , "To our honeymoon destination," Emma took it, less than eagerly from his hands, and opened it with almost false cheer, beging to feel awkward.

"Enjoy your lovely stay in Tallahassee,"

Emma blinked in surprise.

"Tallahassee?" Neal queried. "Interesting location choice. I hear they have beautiful parks there,"

"I've always wanted to go to Tallahassee," Her voice was just above a mystified whisper.

"Well, now we get to, I guess,"

* * *

 

**Honeymoon:**

The ride to the airport, and the plane ride itself were inconsequentially in the scheme of things. Emma's name hadn't yet been legally changed, though the paperwork had been filed for her by the show. Before long, the hotel loomed before them. Tallahassee was not exactly what Emma had expected, with its skyscrapers and city environment. Intellectually, she had known that there were no beaches in the immediate Tallahassee area, that they would have to drive a ways if they wanted to go to the beach, but it hadn't really hit her until she got out of their taxi in front of the Hotel.

Neal held the door for her, as she dragged her luggage behind her, and they walked together up to the front desk, hyper aware of the cameraman following them at a distance.

"Hi, we're here to check in," Neal, stated evenly.

"Name?"

"Emma and Neal Cassidy,"  Emma fought her reflexive response to cringe at the idea that she was no longer Blanchard-Nolan.

"Ah, the honeymoon suite," The desk attendant smiled. "Enjoy your stay with us," She slid the key card across the desk, along with the papers, which Neal signed in quick succession. Emma took the key. She was standing to the side, feeling awkward. Neal slid the papers back across.

"We will, thanks," He turned to her. "So, what's the room number?"

"805,"

The camera man, thankfully, didn't fit in the elevator with them, so the tension that had been rearing its head in Emma's stomach lessened considerably.

"So, do you want to see how quickly we can get in and lock the door before they get up here to film us?" He asked, flashing a grin.  Emma couldn't help but grin back conspiratorially.

"You're on,"

The elevator dinged and the raced each other out into the hallway, like children. Neal was beating her out, but Emma was catching on his head start, when he stopped abruptly, and she slammed into his back. Coming from the other direction was an elderly couple.

"Sorry," Neal huffed, obviously attempting to stifle his laughter. Emma covered a snort with a cough, and the couple passed them, looking thoroughly scandalized by their immature behaviour.   
"Quick, we have to beat the camera," The competition between them forgotten, they hustled down the hall, swiped the key card and slammed the door behind them, just as the ding of the elevator resounded in the hallway. Exhilaration left Emma in a fit of breathy laughter, and Neal smiling like a loon. The room around them was stunningly decorated, with dark wood furniture and a distinctly jungle theme, with medium sage walls, and ocher curtains on the bed canopy and window treatments.

"Well this is nice," She managed once she'd regained her breath.

"Yeah. I like the dark wood," It was a fairly incongruous statement, but Emma found it fascinating all the same, not because of the fact that he preferred the dark wood, but rather because he was simply so willing, or so oblivious to the fact that he shared information about himself - no matter how insignificant - as easy as if he were saying the sun was shining outside. He was naturally more open about himself. Emma felt the strain, the pressure of having to let him in. Even small things made her feel exposed, but it was a part of the process, and if she wanted this to work...as she stood there, unawares that he was watching her in her silent contemplation, Emma realized that she did want it to work, not because of the social experiment, or for the network, or even because she was married. She simply came to the understanding that she wanted to work at it for herself, and for Neal.

"You okay over there?" He asked quietly, seriously.

"Yeah, um, yes. I...the hardwood. I really love hardwood floors," How could such an unimportant fact feel so immense as she shared it with him.

"Me too, if only because I like looking at area rugs. I've never owned one, but I think they're pretty cool. Mainly because you're not stuck with them. If you want to redecorate, you just get a new one,"

"You like interior design?" She asked, genuinely interested.

"Not to the point where HGTV is my favourite channel,” He deadpanned. “But I guess that something carried over from when I still lived with my dad. He used to own an antique shop. Well, really, he was a pawnbroker, but he just did that for fun. Lots of old rugs in the store,"

"Crazy. My mom likes white. It's so stupid, because her last name was Blanchard and all, but, practically half her wardrobe is white. She had a hell of a time finding a dress for the wedding, because only the bride is supposed to wear white or something, so she had to go out of her way and buy a new dress, because she didn't own a damn thing that wasn't mostly white. I guess, like you, I kind of took that with me. My apartment back in New York is pretty bland,"

"Bland beats gaudy in my book any day. You can always spruce up bland. With gaudy, you either throw things out, little by little, or you have to start all over" He looked around once more, gaze finally settling on a chest of drawers. "Want to unpack? While you slept on the plane, I did some research about stuff to do here. I can fill you in while we get settled,"

"Great. I hope there's something fun to do," She lugged her case over to the chest of drawers, and they both knelt down, unpacking the items they'd brought. Neal began to speak.

"Well, I don't really know what you're into, so I just looked at everything. There's this Living museum, which is 50 some acres of era recreations, houses, people is historical dress.  I also saw something about a living history association that does war reenactments, which could be interesting.  And they have this extra thing on sight, where you can go zip lining in 20 different locations. Which, I have to admit, sounds pretty cool. There's an automobile and collectible's museum, which cars from movies, and different eras - they have three batmobiles - The Maclay Garden and the Dorothy B Oven Gardens, flowers, hiking trails, ponds, pedal boats, that sort of stuff. And you know, the typical shopping route. Anything sound interesting?"

As Neal looked over to her she flushed furiously. Emma had just removed the negligée from her suitcase as he turned to her, so she stuffed it unceremoniously in the drawer. Neal's forehead frowned a little, as he looked curiously, but not obviously at her drawer, choosing to ignore her odd behaviour. Emma decided to pretend that nothing had happen, instead choosing to answer his question.

"Yeah, actually. I've never done zip-lining before, but I've always wanted too, so we can do the Living History museum, and do the zip-lining while we're there," Talking about things to do felt freeing. "And I sort of have this thing for old cars, so I'm all for the automobile museum. Those things I'm certainly down for. What about you?"  
"Check and check on the zip-lining/living history, and the cars. I used to have this old, beat up junker of a VW Beetle,"

"No kidding? I've always loved beetles. I always wanted a yellow one. Yellow and red tie for my favourite colours,"

"Seriously?" He looked at her, mirth apparent in his eyes. "Mine was yellow. Rubber duck yellow,"

"Too bad you don't still have it," She shut the drawer she'd just filled and opened the one below it, folding in the rest of her clothing articles.

"Yeah well, it was a relic of a past life and as much as I loved it, it wasn't something prudent to keep, living in New York. Mostly, I rent cars if I have to drive anywhere outside of Manhattan. Sometimes I go by my Pop for a weekend, so I'll pick up a little Toyota or something. Nothing special,"

"I actually have a car. Kind of have to with the bailbonds thing sometimes. It's um, it's actually a red bug,"

"You're joking,"

"Nope. There wasn't a yellow one on the market when I bought it, so I got red. It's a 2001, but I've always wanted one from the 60's, like yours must have been,"

" '72 but that's close enough," He smiled. "Well that's cool. I've missed that car,"

"So, anything else you might want to do this week?" She pushed along the conversation back to it's starting point.

"Well, between the excitement of zip-lining, war reenactments and old cars, maybe we could check out one of the gardens. The first one, I think, is a state park. When I lived upstate, I liked to go hiking, so if you're up for that..."

"Sure. I'm always up for activity,"

"And we have to talk about restaurants and stuff, but we don't have to worry about that until later. I think there's some pamphlets in the lobby downstairs,"

She smiled brightly at his enthusiasm as they finished putting away errant travel articles, moving about the room in a sort of tandem.

"Sounds great. But while we're here, we have to have seafood at least once,"

"And ice cream. Gotta have ice cream,"

"Deal,"

For the rest of the first day, Emma and Neal explored the main drag of the Tallahassee city and tourist centre, trying valiantly to ignore the cameraman, who was actually a respectable distance from them, trailing them, probably bored to death. Emma giggled when Neal whispered his thought on the matter in her ear, and without thinking, she let her hand drag intimately down his arm. But she noticed when her fingers brushed his in the motion, and he reflexively reached out to hold her hand. Or perhaps not so reflexively, and he tensed in anticipation that she might pull away. But it was nice. For the first time in a long time, Emma felt good about having contact, about opening herself, sharing in the partnership that she'd always imagined a relationship would infer, even if this was only the shallow impression of what could be. It was the possibility that spurned her to tighten her hand around his. In response, Neal gripped more firmly, giving their clasped hands a slight swing, as they walked aimlessly down the road, the sun setting before them, and the light framing their figures in its glow.

Magic was something that Emma did not believe in, but there was definitely more than a spark between her and Neal. He was full of the ambition to enjoy life, to appreciate all things, and she felt fuller, like she was gaining a richer enjoyment through him. It was easy to laugh in his company, and surprisingly easy to make him laugh in return, though she didn't consider herself to be particularly humorous. Dinner was a quiet affair that they took back at the hotel, and in privacy. The evening was warm, and Emma was glad that she'd been warned beforehand what sort of weather they would be in for. It was getting late, and she'd changed into sleep shorts and a tank, and Neal, with her giggled permission, had shucked his pants for the comfort of his boxers.  Emma had expected him to remove his t-shirt too, which she wasn't entirely opposed to -  he was good looking, and she couldn't help it if she was interesting in knowing what his torso looked like - but he hadn't made to remove it, though he still seemed, and understandably so, uncomfortably hot.

"You can take your shirt off, you know. You're already in your boxers, and the heat is god awful," She threw the comment in offhanded manner. She was painting her toes at their little table, and he was sitting at the other chair, just across from her, reading in his book. When Neal didn't respond, Emma looked up from her nail lacquer, to view his reaction.

He was tense, that much was obvious to her, and he wasn't looking at his book.

"Or not?" She added, questioningly. Emma could see him swallow, but he pulled the grey shirt up and over his head. She admired his muscles, not buff by any means, but still decently toned, her eyes wandering down his stretched torso , his dark trail of little hairs and...

There, on his left side, was the round, puckered scar that Emma knew only from pictures at her bailbonds classes.

"You were shot?" She found herself asking, and slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"The woman who used to be my fiancée..." He sounded detached. "She wanted my father's money. Found out who I was. Romanced me. I thought I really loved her, til I found her with another man. He was her actual boyfriend. I was their mark. She shot me. She was going to kill me. I got lucky. The neighbours heard the shot and called the police. Rose and Philip, and their girlfriend, Jaime. They broke in. Tamara ran for it, but I'm only still here because of them. Jaime and Philip were EMT's. They saved my life. I woke up in the hospital, and that was the first time I met Belle. They found the files Tamara had left behind, knew to call my dad. It's how we reconnected. He took up my case and once the police caught her, he put her in prison. Life sentence, no parole. Her boyfriend tried to run, ended up in a shootout with some cops. He didn't make it,"

Emma didn't know what to say. She was intimately familiar with the prison system, with the bad people who jumped bail. It wasn't all tax evasion and neglect to pay child support or alimony. Sometimes, the people she chased were actually terrible. But she never thought she'd know someone personally who'd gone through something so abjectly horrible. She only stuttered.

"So that's about it. Now you know basically everything important about me. Oh - the yellow beetle? I originally stole that, but in my defense, I was a minor living on the streets, so I was bound to get into some trouble. Now that's everything," Neal looked at Emma directly, without pain, without any emotion at all. "You don't have to say anything,"

For about five minutes, Emma was ready to take Neal up on that offer.

The sixth minute changed her mind.

"My first boyfriend had a heart attack while in the middle of surrounding a grocery store hold up. He was the local sheriff. The perp freaked and shot him, right through the heart. We'd been together less than two weeks. My second boyfriend lied, cheated and stole 20,000 dollars from me. I haven't seen him since. My last boyfriend - the only who asked me to marry him...Walsh...he got close to me under false pretenses. He was actually employed by a woman whom I was chasing for jumping bail. She was convicted of murder five years ago, and somehow had managed to get off on bail. She hired him to get me out of the way. When I got to close, I found him out and he nearly pushed me off the roof of my apartment building, but I hit him over the head with a pipe. He was in a coma for a month, and now he's in prison. I don't really think any of that compares to getting shot by your fiancée, after discovering that she was basically playing you, and sleeping with someone else besides, but as far as being open goes, that's what I've got,"

She wrung her hands, risking a glance at him. Neal was looking very firmly at the wall.

"I don't open up easily. I don't - when it comes to love, and relationships, I suck," she stated plainly. "But you seem like maybe the first decent guy I've had more than a passing chance with. You're," she tried not to choke, amazed she was even saying any of it "amazingly hot, and sweet, and thoughtful and far better than I've ever thought I deserved, much less would ever find. So, I can take your psycho fiancée if you can accept that the men in two out of the three relationship I've been in were criminals, and one is dead,"

A laugh, still genuine, though it sounded at odd with the emotion in his voice, came from Neal.

"Wow, we're two pretty fucked up people,"

"Yeah, I guess we really are perfect for one another,"

She wasn't quite sure how it happened, that they came together, both with misty eyes, though there were no real tears, their kiss both gentle and passionate. (Everything with Neal seemed inherently gentle and passionate at turns.) They were breathing heavily when they broke apart, and Neal's eyes were lidded. Emma's hands rested flat against his chest. They were closer than they had ever been. Physically as well as emotionally.

Neal coughed awkwardly, and they backed away from each other in tandem. No words were exchanged, they simply sat back down, and continued on with their individual activities, though Emma's heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest.

 _This_  was chemistry. She glanced up at Neal, and found him glancing away from her, back to his book. So they were going to play  _that_  game. She smirked, but it faded to a genuine smile. Their own dark secrets off their chests, Emma found that the week was looking up immensely.

About an hour later, her toenails dried and Neal three chapters further in his book, they only gave their cursory good nights before crawling into bed, falling asleep with thoughts of each other, and of their first genuine kiss.


End file.
